


Vital Things

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Other Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-05
Updated: 2006-03-05
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:52:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8080318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: An apology and a happy ending. At least for Malcolm. Reed/m, Hayes/m. (11/23/2004)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers, 3.23 "Countdown," 3.24 "Zero Hour," 4.03 "Home."  
  
Whoo, am I being self-indulgent with this one. ::g:: I am also unrepentantly stealing Weebob's Reason Hayes is Alive (from her terrific story "My Son Malcolm," because it's so very, very coolâ€”and plausible, even! And since I'm an unrepentant thief, I've also adopted wholesale the excellent back story Gigi made up for Hayes, because I love it. And this way almost everyone gets what they want. :-D  
  
Beta: Kageygirl, who rocks my socks like a fox in a box.  


* * *

"Hi, Malcolm."

Not 'Malc.' But then, Charles 'Trip' Tucker had always known that Malcolm had hated that nickname, even though Trip had used it as a kind of endearment. And there would never be any reason for Trip to use it again, now.

Part of Malcolm Reed still missed it, though—the endearment he would never hear again. He supposed he always would. Joshua Kemper only ever used his full name.

"Commander." Malcolm forced himself not to cross his arms, though he couldn't keep from moving a step further away from the seawall. The sand was hot under his bare feet, but not unbearably so. It was early evening, the worst heat of the day gone. It wasn't even so humid, right on the Gulf of Mexico as they were.

He didn't look at Trip. Instead, he watched the four figures in the water.

For a long while Trip said nothing, just stood with his hands on his hips, watching the three men and the little girl. Matthew Hayes had one arm thrown casually across the shoulders of Miguel Ramirez, bending it so his hand brushed the other man's chest. The proprietary intimacy of the gesture was surprising—so different from the aloof, reserved Major Hayes Malcolm had known on _Enterprise_. Malcolm had never thought he had missed so much of Matthew's true personality, but of course, in retrospect he'd been too busy fighting the Xindi and his own internal battles to notice.

"How was the wedding?" Trip asked, and Malcolm slid his gaze over just enough to see the tilt of Trip's chin as he nodded at Ramirez and Matthew. Trip's voice was neutral, careful. And he didn't smile.

"It was just a civil ceremony," Malcolm said. His mouth pulled in a tiny smile. "Hayes was rather nervous, though—for a moment I thought he'd have preferred to be fighting the Xindi."

Trip smiled a little at that, too. "Nice of him to ask you to stand up for him."

"Yes," Malcolm said. He didn't ask how Trip knew—the returning crew of _Enterprise_ were celebrities of sorts. Apparently that extended to MACO weddings becoming public knowledge. "I didn't expect it," Malcolm said, which was certainly true. Sergeant Kemper and Corporal McKenzie had been the official witnesses, but Matthew had still wanted Malcolm to be standing with him, next to his people. Malcolm had been both shocked and honored.

"They sure look happy together," Trip commented. He was wearing jean shorts, and now shoved his hands in the pockets. His sandaled feet scuffed small furrows in the sand.

Something in Trip's voice made Malcolm turn his head to fully see him. The commander's sky-blue eyes were impossibly sad.

Malcolm looked away again, at Joshua Kemper, who was playing with Heather—Miguel and Matthew's daughter. Joshua was holding her upside down, and the little girl was shrieking with laughter. When a wave rolled in, Joshua would lower her enough until the water crested over her head and shoulders.

The surge of love Malcolm felt, just watching Joshua, was like an ache, like a wave, cresting over him. So strong it almost hurt.

Malcolm wondered if Trip could see it, in his eyes, the way he could see the anguish in Trip's. He wondered what Trip was thinking.

"I'm amazed he's even alive," Malcolm said at last, meaning Matthew, as much to break the suddenly unpleasant silence as because it was true. "Two days in the morgue, unconscious..." He stopped, shaking his head. It was recent enough that the guilt was still almost overwhelming. He had been there, in Sick Bay, almost right next to Matthew, but he had never thought to questions Phlox's instruments. It had never even occurred to him that the major might still be breathing, because the bio monitors had said he wasn't.

They were just lucky that the cargo hold they'd converted into a makeshift morgue still had atmosphere. They were incredibly lucky.

Malcolm hoped he never stopped feeling guilty about that, about how he was complicit in almost letting Matthew die, almost denying Ramirez his husband and Heather a father. He hoped it meant that regardless of the circumstances, he would never, ever stop paying attention to vital things.

"Yeah," Trip said softly. "Nice to get one of 'em back."

"Two," Malcolm said, equally quietly. He looked down at his bare feet in the sand. Joshua had told him not to bother with sandals, since they were just across the street from the hotel. They were in Galveston, Texas, and the narrow beaches were literally steps away from the storefronts, set into the ancient buildings. "We got back two." He forced himself to not look at Trip again, to not be that hopeful. It hadn't been so many days, after all, since they'd all thought the Captain had died.

Malcolm could see the bob of his shadow as Trip took a step closer, but when Malcolm looked up it was at the four figures amongst the waves. Joshua was standing next to Heather, holding her hand. Matthew was holding her other hand, and the two men would lift her in time with the waves rolling in, so she would float over the top of it, like a buoy. Ramirez was standing nearer to the shore, with his arms crossed over his chest. He laughed and shouted something in Spanish, and Heather shouted something in return.

Trip cleared his throat. "I came here to apologize, Malcolm," he said.

Malcolm looked at him, astonished. But Trip was staring out at the water, the way Malcolm had been, though Malcolm was certain Trip wasn't actually seeing the ocean. Trip was wearing a green t-shirt over the jean shorts; Malcolm recognized both pieces of clothing as ones Trip had brought on board. Malcolm had even worn those shorts himself, more than once. The familiarity of it was a different kind of ache, but distant now, like a childhood sadness one leaves behind.

Malcolm had been raised to be polite, diffident, self-effacing. The first words on his tongue were 'you have nothing to apologize for.' Proper and automatic. He bit them back and said nothing.

"I—I did love you," Trip said. His voice had gone rough, reminding Malcolm a little of the sand. "I said once that I loved you more'n my life, and it's true." He glanced at Malcolm, gave him a strangely shy smile. "You remember that?"

"Yes," Malcolm said, and it was suddenly hard to speak.

"It's true," Trip repeated. He pulled one of his hands out of his pocket to run his fingers through his hair. "When I told you..." he swallowed, looking away along the beach. "When I said those things, back on the ship. I..." He took a breath. "I didn't mean it, Malcolm," he said. This time when he turned to Malcolm, his eyes were imploring. "I didn't mean it. I was angry, because I thought the cap'n was gone. I just...I was lookin' for someone to blame."

Malcolm stared back at Trip for a long moment, at those beautiful blue eyes. He didn't move any closer, didn't reach to touch him, though there was still part of him that wanted to so badly, to pull Trip into his arms and kiss away that fathomless pain he saw there. Malcolm didn't even know what had caused it—this new anguish, to replace or augment Trip's grief. Once upon a time he would have known. Once he would have known everything.

"Thank you," Malcolm said, "for telling me."

"Yeah." Trip nodded. He looked down at the sand, scuffing his feet some more. "I wanted you to know that. I waited too long to tell you as it was."

The silence settled between them, like the encroaching night, drifting in. Joshua and Matthew's family would have to come in soon; it wasn't safe, swimming at night.

Once, not so long ago, even, the silence would have been comfortable, familiar and warm. Now Malcolm could practically hear it—humming with tension and everything that would never be said.

_I miss you_ , Malcolm thought. He missed Trip so much sometimes it was like he couldn't breathe. There were moments when he looked at Joshua and all he could see was Trip, even after all this time. He didn't think it would ever stop.

"I hear some MACOs are gonna ship out with us," Trip said.

Malcolm almost smiled. Trip always hated uncomfortable silences. "Yes," he said. "Sergeant Kemper's been promoted, as has Corporal McKenzie—they'll be shipping out with us when _Enterprise_ relaunches." He did smile at that. He'd already applied for shared quarters.

"That's good," Trip said. His answering smile was pleased and genuine, but there was still something behind it that Malcolm couldn't comprehend. "That's real good. I'm happy for you."

"Thank you," Malcolm said simply.

Trip just nodded. Now his eyes were back on the group in the water. Matthew was carrying Heather; she had her arms around his neck and her head resting on his shoulder. Malcolm wondered if it was making Trip think of Lizzie.

"Kemper's a good man," Trip said.

"He is," Malcolm said, biting back a brief flare of anger. He hadn't been looking for Trip's approval. "He kept me from falling apart, in the Expanse. He helped keep me sane."

"I know," Trip said. He had both hands in his pockets again, his features softening in the dimming light. "I'm glad...I'm glad he was there for you. That you had someone. To help you deal with, with everything."

_It should have been you_ , Malcolm thought viciously. But he just nodded. "I was lucky," he said. He was. And yet, not at all.

"Yeah," Trip said. And there was a world of meaning in that one word that Malcolm didn't, couldn't, understand.

And then they watched Joshua, and Ramirez and Matthew walk out of the water to the shore, Matthew carrying his daughter. It was nearly dark now; the sky was an almost blue-black over the twilight ocean.

Joshua waved at Malcolm. Malcolm raised his hand, then realized he'd started grinning.

"Well," Trip said. "I guess I should go."

Malcolm looked at him, surprised. "You won't stay? We were going for dinner..." He realized that he didn't actually want Trip to stay, even as he said it. He had no idea what they'd be able to talk about.

"No." Trip shook his head. His smile was tragic. "I'd just get in the way. The Cap'n's waitin' for me back in San Francisco, anyway. He wants to discuss some modifications to the engines—maybe a way to get us goin' at 5.5."

"All right, then," Malcolm said. He stepped towards Trip, holding out his hand. "Thank you for dropping by. I appreciate it." There was so much more he wanted to say, but it was all meaningless now. It was over and nothing would ever resurrect what they'd had or bring any of it back again. And he had Joshua now, who loved him. Whom Malcolm loved in return.

Joshua, who had told Malcolm that he'd done the right thing. Who would always have room.

"I'm sorry, Trip," Malcolm said. And he almost knew why he was saying it.

Trip took his hand, held it tightly. He put his other hand on Malcolm's shoulder—a warm, familiar weight. "I don't regret what we had, Malcolm," Trip said. "Not a moment of it. Not ever. I want you to know that."

"Thank you," Malcolm said, being polite, being kind. _You destroyed it_ , he thought. _We didn't have to lose anything, except for you_.

He was a little surprised, to find he was still so angry. But when the commander pulled away, he missed Trip's touch all the same.

"So," Trip said. "I'll see you back on the ship, then."

"Yes." Malcolm nodded, smiled. "See you soon."

"Tell 'em I said 'hi,'" Trip said, meaning the others. Then he turned and walked off, across the sand. Malcolm watched him until Trip climbed the steps up the seawall and out of sight.

He felt Joshua's arms wrapping around his middle, a moment later, felt Joshua's chin on his shoulder.

"Was that the commander?" Joshua asked. "What did he want?"

"Nothing important," Malcolm said. He leaned into it when Joshua hugged him.


End file.
